Endless Night
by MegaDorkk
Summary: Ximena Castillo's world turns upside down when she starts working the Kira case. She meets her greatest idol and realizes that maybe she isn't so alone in this world.


What is the meaning of life?  
Is it the works you've done?  
Maybe the things you haven't done?  
Can it be the people you've met?  
Or some could argue it's the people you haven't met.  
Whatever it is, you aren't supposed to have a clear answer, that or not tell anyone you know what life is.  
I guess then my life has been pretty meaningful, or meaningless the way you look at it. I met the world's greatest detective, befriended a deranged killer, helped solve the murder of the year (seeing my crazed friend die that is), and got my dream job.  
But was it worth it?  
While doing those things, I not only lost the love of my life, but lost myself. What could any job, any money amount, any love be if you are like a zombie on the inside. What's the purpose of anything if you want to die.  
And things were going pretty great, but then, things got complicated. And by that, I mean that I wanted to not exist right in the middle of it. I guess you could say I'm just crazy. And I mean, I'm not suicidal or anything, but I can't be the only person to want to not be living anymore, right? What's life without those you want to brag about what you've done to better the world?  
Oh right, there is none. A place like that doesn't exist, nor should it.  
And what thing could be so dramatic that I wanted to fall off the face of the planet?  
Well, I'll just have to just start at the beginning.  
And the beginning starts in Hell.

* * *

Well, maybe not literally hell, but someplace definitely most could argue is pretty dang close.  
High school.  
I am not a student, thank god, but a student teacher, more or less. I am actually just starting my first year in college. I'm just following around my uncle, who is the councilor for a high school in Japan. Kinda cool, I guess.  
To think, I spent four years just to come right where I started. That's a lie. Where I come from, it is predominately Hispanic kids, whose parents yell at them in Spanish. Mine did for no reason whatsoever. Seeing mostly Japanese kids is a culture shock.  
Not to mention I feel like I'm being stared down by almost every single kid here. Why is that? Could it be because I look different? My name is different? That even though I'm living in Japan for about three months now, I still cannot speak one lick of Japanese.  
I only know one word. Kawaii. That's it. I don't even know how to write it, I just know the pronunciation. I barely found out what it meant a week ago.  
Okay, maybe that's pushing it, but it's not like they don't think I should speak Japanese already. I know a lot of Americans would be upset if you moved to America without knowing any English.  
Why am I in Japan? Why did I move in with my uncle even though I am a legally an adult in the eyes of the U.S. government?  
It's really an easy question, the answer just a four letter word.  
Kira.  
Because of all this Kira crap, I decided to go straight to the horse's mouth. I mean, if you want to study crime, why not go to the crime capital of the world itself? And because America was starting to become boring. No major things were happening. Japan is cool and exotic. America is over done.  
Talk about B-O-R-N-I-N-G!  
It just so happens that my uncle could get me away from... my normal stresses and enrolled me in some college in Japan. Besides, after my aunt died I had nowhere to go. My uncle is my only known relative and since my mom died when I was born, my dad has wanted nothing to do with me since I was born, he left me to my aunt who had some form of cancer. My uncle had to take me in if I even wanted to attempt to go to school.  
I've probably been a nuisance to him from the start. The government shipped me over here because they didn't want another smart kid to end up on the streets. I know that, my uncle knows that. Hell, even my professors know my story. Every time I go during their office hours I introduce myself, they ask how I'm doing. As if they even care. And I know my uncle doesn't want me anymore. No one ever does.  
"Xime? Are you listening to me?" I hear my uncle say.  
"Sorry, I was thinking. Yes?" Is all I can muster. I completely forgot I was out with my uncle again. Too much to think about to remember where you are.  
"It's time to go," he says with his sweet "I need to take care of you, remember?" eyes. God, I hate those. They make me feel useless.  
"Oh yeah! Of course." I grab my stuff. How wonderfully cliché to say you thought the day away.

"Listen, Xime," he says my nickname with the perfect accent. He's the only one around here who can actually pronounce my name correctly. Instead of using the X sound, you use an H sound. My name sounds more like Himena, though it's spelled Ximena. "I know things have been pretty crazy with your dad and then having to move over here. If there's anything you need, anything at all, feel free to ask."  
I look up and smile, "You are doing your best. What more can I ask of?" I lie of course. No need telling him how bored I am. Life is boring, Japan is boring.  
I need some excitement. Being stuck by my uncle's side almost twenty-four seven when I don't have class is just plain slow. It's even worse if I stay home. The only reason I go with my uncle is that it gives me some form of entertainment. It helps me with what I want to do in the future. I plan to become a private investigator.  
Some say I have special power, but I just have a knack for spotting the little things.  
Let's figure out my uncle, for example.  
His hair is short, buzz cut style. Due to his time in the army, it's not surprising he would stick with the same style. When you see how he stands, straight up with his hands at his sides, almost as if he were at attention, shows he's a disciplined man. He's always got his cane with him because he hurt his leg, but won't tell a soul how he hurt it. My guess is that he lost someone special, like a mate, and lost his leg at that time too.

We see a woman in the office. Her hair is greasy and all knotted. She probably hasn't taken a shower in a couple of days. Lately, she's been wearing long sleeves even though it's pretty nice out. She said her washer was busted, but I call BS.  
My guess is that tomorrow she won't come to work tomorrow because she has a black eye.

We come home and I run up to my room, like always. Tomorrow...  
What do I have?  
I take a look at my schedule. Oh yeah, class. You'd think I'd be excited. I'm not. Life is so dull, yet I'm too afraid to take a risk. I guess it's kind of ironic. I'm bored, but I'm too afraid to try something different. It's like I'm stuck in a rut  
I start to get ready for bed when I turn on the T.V. What is this? More killings? Could it be Kira? They did not exactly specify  
They died of heart attacks. It's him. Or her?  
I then hear the four letter word and turn up the volume on the worlds smallest T.V. set.  
More criminals have died and the media is already calling it case closed. Pack it up, no reason investigating. It probably was just was one of those things.. Bur it could also be this mystery killer.  
How.. Interesting

_Who is Kira?_ I write in my composite book. Well, that's a little blunt, even for me. _What is their purpose for killing?_ Hmm... Still too vague.  
_Do they think they are doing the world a favor?_ There we go. That gets me going.  
_Obviously this Kira character is couldn't be... or maybe they are. Maybe this Kira is really getting on to something. Could killing criminals really be such a bad thing? If Kira really, truly believes in what they're doing, who has the right to say that they aren't allowed to do that. It's never right to judge others on their beliefs._  
What? So now I'm defending Kira? Stay on topic, Xime.  
_But this still does not justify killing people. Violence is never the answer. The only time people start acting on their views on what the 'ideal world' might be, is when they have full complete confidence in themselves._  
_So many criminals have died. Kira surely has a twisted up idea of what justice is, or what is could become. But why are they killing? There must be some reasoning behind it. Does he know someone in the police? Does he want to transcend the work of a police officer? All they're doing is saying, 'Try and stop me!'_  
_"'I bet you can't,' they're daring._  
I put my pencil down. The more I write, the more I think, the less I sleep. And it's really hard to sleep less then I already do.  
I lay down trying to forget everything, Kira, my dad, my depressing view on the world and life itself, etc.  
Life is terrible. You spend so much time building yourself up for what? After all the crap you go through, you die. How great does that sound? "Oh we know you think so little of yourself and let people prove to you how worthless you are. Just wait, when your older, you're going to die. Doesn't that sound like fun?" I guess that's pretty morbid of me, but I can't help feeling like that.  
And it's not because I'm suicidal or anything, far from it. I just think about death a lot, I guess. I mean think about it: every minute of your life you do something stupid, is one minute you've lost. Are you really going to die knowing you led a meaningless life? I would roll over in my grave if I knew that I did nothing in this world.  
I lay in my bed. How worthless we all are. How boring and pretentious pricks we all are. We try to convince ourselves we are working hard. How disgraceful. And even as I lay here now, I know I'm being pathetic. Why do I deserve to revel in human kinds mistakes? I make all those mistakes daily. Why do I have the right?  
I don't. That's the thing. I have no right whatsoever to talk about how bad this generation is because I am apart of it. I am this generation. I am the worthless scum made by a druggie mom and an abusive father, born and raised in the land of the (not so) free. That's this generation. The broken remains of reckless people.  
So I stop thinking because, for the moment..  
For the moment, I feel as though I'm being watched.


End file.
